It is Futile
by stranger12
Summary: The end is not the end


**Hostel – It is Futile**

The end is not the end

* * *

Afterwards, Beth did not sleep for nearly an entire week. Before, she had trouble sleeping, but she had never stayed up, staring at a wall for hours on end until morning came, sleep had never seemed so impossible and horrific. Then again, she had never had nightmares that truly terrified her and made her fear for her sanity.

She returned to Italy after– After, reported Whitey and Lorna, then pretended she was completely innocent and ignorant of their fates. For one, she mercifully didn't quite known what had happened to them (Lorna's fate was something she tried so very hard not to think about), so she didn't need to lie about that. It was a little more difficult to pretend that she had escaped unscathed because the cops clearly could see that something was weighing on me, haunting her, but nothing could be proved and although it cut into her, she lied, she lied, she lied, even when faced with her friends' sobbing parents.

Her dad came over as well, and even as he held her, she could not cry, she could not confess her sins, she could not talk about the demons that now laughed at her from the shadows. No, the tattoo she now carried was the blood proof that she had bought a man's death, no matter that the man killed Whitney and wanted to rape and kill her, and she alone had to carry all that knowledge.

On the plane, she managed to sleep, lulled to something close to safety beside her worried father, and he commented lightly about how deeply she slept. He didn't comment about the dark circles under her eyes, nor did she comment that she was relieved she hadn't attacked him when he woke her up.

Despite her dad's soft questioning, Beth decided to take some time from school. Most people assumed it was because of whatever happened in Europe, with Whitney and Lorna (still considered missing), and gave her empty sentiments. Something in Beth wanted to be polite and kind, but the part of her that ruthlessly killed Stuart in that dark room just wanted to yell at them, spit at them and tell them to keep to themselves because she didn't need their pity or whatever it was they wanted to give her.

Once home, she was able to sleep, even if only a few hours a night. Her nightmares continued, of course, filled with rivers of blood, screams, rolling heads, and closing doors. Some nights, Beth died over and over again, some nights, she killed over and over again, Stuart, Whitney, Lorna, her dad, her mom, everyone she had ever known, even herself.

"You look tired, baby" – her dad told her many a times. They met once a week for lunch or dinner, and his eyes followed her every slow movement.

"I'm fine, dad" – she always attempted to be nice to him, he was unaware of how dark the world could be, he just wanted the best for her, but she had had the worst happen to her, and he could never know.

"Are you sure you don't want to move back home?"

"Yes, I'm sure, I'd rather– I'm an adult, dad, I want my own space"

"Of course, I'm sorry. I'm your father, I worry"

"... I know" – her smiles felt stiff and fake, but he didn't seem to notice, or she didn't care enough to look for it in his face.

There was little that concerned her anymore. Even the police was nothing to her (she had been told by an Elite Hunting representative that she had done the right thing, reporting her friends missing because otherwise it would be too suspicious, but they would take care of it all; she did not question them about Whitney and Lorna's family, what they would be told, but a part of her didn't care at all about any of that, any of them), her friends were too busy living their lives to come over and check on her. Her dad was the only one to reach out to her, sure, and some days Beth loved him so much, most of the time, however, she hated him with everything she had.

Why should he care about her? She wad dirty, she had left a man to die slowly from blood loss, she had used a good chunk of her mother's money to buy his life (to buy her survival). Her dad was a good person, he was a good parent, and she could not be a good daughter, a good person ever again, not after she accepted that the only way to save herself was to forget that the Elite Hunting people were solely responsible for her suffering, her friends' deaths, and make a deal with them, not after she let them mark her forever with their tattoo.

Some times, somehow, the Elite came in contact with them, slyly asked if she was at all willing to 'get back in the game', as they put it, sent her pictures of innocent, fresh faced young men and women, and she wondered what the other members of the Elite had thought when they saw her picture. Had they thought her sweet? Feisty? Pretty? Had they been disgusted with themselves even for a moment?

If she could spend her money saving these people, she would, but she knew that going and purchasing someone meant going into a room and killing them. Stuart was enough, she coldly thought, she could see those faces, she could feel an inkling of sadness for what was waiting for them, but she could not feel a hint of desire of warning them somehow.

No, she was alive, and she was going to stay alive, fuck it. She had not ripped Stuart's penis, fed it to a dog only to die trying to save some poor sap. No one had helped her, no one had saved her, she had done it herself, so she only closed the computer, she put her phone down, and pretended it was a dream, she pretended it had nothing to do with her.

Eventually, she went back to school (in the US – she wasn't sure she would ever step in Europe again), she started smiling more naturally, life continued.

"What is this tattoo anyway?" – one guy she started dating asked one night, fingering her back curiously.

"Nothing, really, something I did one night when I was a little drunk" – she tried to explain lightly.

"You know, I think my grandfather had one like that, I saw it once" – he commented, and she froze in place.

"A coincidence" – she whispered, turning to kiss him.

* * *

I really like the first two Hostel movies, I can't help myself.


End file.
